REMARKS 


JOS.  B.  CUMMING, 

AT  A PUBLIC  MEETING  OF 

CITIZENS  OF  AUGUSTA 

ON  THE  OCCASION  OF 

THE  DEATH  OF  PRESIDENT  McKINLEY 


Chrgnicle  Job  Print, 
Augusta,  Ga. 


I am  entirely  sincere  when  I say  that  I would  have  pre- 
ferred to  be  among  the  many  who  are  here  to  listen  rather 
than  one  of  the  few  who  are  here  to  speak.  I am  occupying 
that  position  against  my  preference,  for  the  one  reason  that  I 
was  requested  to  do  so  and  I did  not  consider  that  it  was 
decorous  in  any  one  to  withhold  his  contribution,  however 
slight,  to  this  occasion.  I cannot  hope  that  anything  I may 
say  can  reach  the  average  even  of  the  magnificent  fitting 
things  that  are  being  said  in  similar  gatherings  all  over  this 
stricken  land.  I cannot  hope  to  add  anything  to  what  has  al- 
ready been  so  well  said  here  this  evening  and  the  other  fitting 
things  which  will  be  said  before  the  close  of  this  occasion. 
Indeed,  I have  felt  inclined  to  ask  myself  why  should  I say 
anything?  Why  should  any  one  speak?  “What  can  be  said 
better  than  silence  is”  in  the  presence  of  so  great  a calamity 
as  that  which  has  brought  us  together? 

No  words  that  any  mortal  tongue  may  utter  can  bring 
this  great  and  good  man  back  from  the  dead  to  the  living. 
Our  words  of  sorrow,  of  esteem,  of  love,  cannot  follow  him  and 
cheer  him.  They  cannot  even  save  the  stricken  wife  a single 
one  of  her  flood  of  tears,  or  bring  to  her  even  one  fair  dream 
when  blessed  sleep  has  let  down  a curtain  between  her  and 
her  immeasurable  sorrow. 

If  we  were  to  stop  to  find  reasons  for  speaking,  surely 
silence  would  descend  upon  us  all.  But  we  do  not  stop  to 
reason  on  such  occasions.  W e yield  to  sentiment,  to  impulse, 
and  surely  it  speaks  well  for  a people  that  with  extraordinary 
unanimity,  with  one  voice,  under  circumstances  which  exclude 
the  possibility  of  self-interest,  or  flattery  of  the  great,  or 
adulation  of  the  powerful,  when  in  the  nature  of  the  case 
there  can  be  nothing  but  a genuine  outpouring  of  their  feelings 
— it  speaks  well,  I say,  for  a people  under  those  circumstances 
to  make  such  demonstrations  as  we  are  making  tonight.  It 
manifests  convincingly  that  we  are  not,  as  a people,  as  is  so 
often  said  of  us,  given  up  wholly  to  the  material  interests  of 
life  and  devoid  of  sentiment.  If  I were  obliged  to  give  a 
practical  reason  for  such  demonstrations,  I can  think  of  but 
one,  and  by  no  means  hopefully,  of  that  one.  I do  not  know 
how  the  anarchist  brain  is  constructed  or  what  motives  affect 
the  anarchist’s  conduct.  Tut  it  is  barely  possible  that  that 
hideous  monstrosity  of  this  age  may  be  impressed  with  what 
is  happening  all  over  this  land  and  indeed  in  all  the  world. 


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It  may  be  that  this  grand  chorus,  without  a single  discordant 
note  going  up  from  all  the  earth,  may  make  even  anarchists 
have  a sense  of  awful  isolation,  make  them  realize  that  they 
are  but  a drop  in  the  mighty  ocean  of  humanity,  and  that  their 
crazy  screeches  are  drowned  in  the  mighty  anthem  of  civiliza- 
tion. Possibly  it  may  make  even  them  realize  that  they 
occupy  to  humanity  in  general  about  the  same  relation  as 
spiders  or  rattlesnakes.  A rattlesnake  may  perchance  sink 
his  death-dealing  fangs  in  the  flesh  of  a great  and  good  man. 
A venomous  spider  even  may  sting  to  death  a noble  life. 
Anarchists  may  compass  similar  achievements,  but  they  may 
be  made  to  feel  that  equally  with  rattlesnakes  and  spiders 
they  are  powerless  to  check  or  divert  the  course  of  civilization. 

Of  McKinley  can  be  said  tonight  what  cannot  be  spoken 
of  you  or  me  or  any  of  the  living..  Hundreds  of  years  ago  it 
was  said  by  one  of  the  wise  ones  of  the  earth,  that  no  one 
could  be  pronounced  happy  till  the  day  of  his  death.  \\  hat- 
ever  eminence  a man  may  attain,  however  fondly  fortune  may 
seem  to  smile  on  him,  whatever  blessings  may  attend  him, 
such  are  the  reverses  and  vicissitudes  of  life,  that  up  to  its  last 
hour  he  is  in  danger  of  calamities  that  may  make  but  dust  and 
ashes  of  all  that  has  gone  before.  But  the  dead  has  passed 
beyond  that  mortal  peril.  McKinley  is  happy;  his  great  fame 
is  secure ; many,  very  many,  pronounce  him  great ; all  pro- 
nounce him  good,  and  now  the  record  is  made  up  and  closed 
and  nothing  can  happen  now  henceforth  forever  to  change  the 
judgment.  He  is  happy. 

My  hearers,  what  we  say  and  do  tonight  will  be  soon  for- 
gotten. The  columns  of  tomorrow’s  newspaper,  which  record 
it,  will  be  read  and  laid  aside.  The  words  spoken  tonight, 
however  eloquent  they  may  be,  are  thrown  upon  the  air  and 
soon  wafted  beyond  the  sense  of  listening  ears.  We  shall  in 
a little  while  break  away  from  this  assemblage  and  go  the 
one  to  his  farm,  another  to  his  merchandise,  another  to  his 
office  and  all  of  us  to  the  exactions  of  our  busy  lives — and 
what  we  have  said  and  done  tonight  will  be  overlaid  by  our 
daily  pursuits  and  forgotten.  Shall  we  not  do  something 
simply,  but  I believe  appropriately,  to  preserve  here  in  our 
very  midst,  lasting  memory  of  the  great  and  good  man? 
Pardon  me  while  I make  a suggestion  on  this  line. 

I was  not  among  those  so  fortunate  as  to  see  President 
McKinley  when  he  visited  Augusta  in  December,  1898.  I was 
absent.  You  will  recall  that  he  did  not  come  into  our  city  by 
rail.  That  was  a marked  epoch  in  our  country's  history,  and 
one  of  the  unusual  facts  of  the  time  was  the  encampment  of 


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ten  thousand  soldiers  of  the  army  of  the  United  States  on  the 
thitherto  peaceful  hills  west  of  the  city.  The  President  de- 
scended from  his  luxurous  special  train  at  Wheless,  and,  ac- 
companied by  his  brilliant  retinue,  drove  to  the  top  of  the  hill 
and  thence  through  lines  of  troops  presenting  arms  along  the 
beautiful  road  which  crosses  that  high  and  breezy  plateau, 
and  so  came  into  your  city.  IWhy  not  get  the  railroad  authori- 
ties to  name  the  place  of  his  descent  from  his  train  McKinley? 
Why  not  erect  there  a simple  but  tasteful  monument,  record- 
ing the  fact  and  briefly  stating  the  circumstances  of  its  erec- 
tion? Why  not  get  your  county  authorities  to  designate  that 
un-named  road  as  “ThePresident’s  Road”,  “The  President’s 
Avenue”,  or  even  "The  Road  of  Triumph”. 

Thus  simply  but  appropriately  we  would  at  the  same  time 
ourselves  honor  this  good  man  and  preserve  a local  memory 
for  those  who  are  to  come  after  us.  And  I may  say,  in  passing, 
thus  the  older  countries  of  the  world  are  made  more  interesting 
to  the  traveller.  Speaking  for  myself  and  without  conference 
with  any  but  one  trusted  friend,  I should  like  to  see  a move- 
ment to  that  end  in  this  very  meeting.” 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/remarksofjosbcumOOcumm 


